"Good enough?"
After I broke the news to Celeste about my breakup, she had insisted we go straight to her house after school so we could get ready for the party together. She wanted to show Josh what he lost: me. Even though she treated me like a doll for at least an hour or two, she was trying her best.
Celeste propped me in front of a mirror.
My red hair, which was usually frizzy, was straightened to the core, allowing it to now fall, like a sheet of coloured paper, to my shoulders. I tilted my head to the side, and my reflection did the same, in tandem. My eyes were covered in heavy makeup, green orbs covered in a black mask.
"I look like a hooker," I finally said.
"Perfect!" Celeste answered, "That's exactly what I was going for. I wanted it to look like you were soliciting prostitution." She paused. "In a good way."
The O'Connor house was located near the local beach, La Jolla, which granted Celeste with a gorgeous view out her window. Living in California had its cons, like the constant heat, but it was also home to lovely beaches and a friendly atmosphere in general.
The cold, icy waves from the beach smacked the sand. People ran across the land and I witnessed a game of beach volleyball taking course.
I turned on my heels. "Thank you, Celeste."
She shrugged, as if it was nothing. Celeste had gone a little overboard with her makeup as well. She puckered her ruby red lips together and blew her reflection a kiss. Her eyes were painted with a shimmery gold shadow, complimenting her golden locks.
She danced around the room in her black pumps, singing along to her favourite Katy Perry song, which blared out from her mini radio, which was pink, just like everything else in her room.
"Now we have to find the right outfit." She opened her closet, biting down on her bow shaped lips. She skimmed her fingers through her large array of clothes.
"You know, I do own my own clothes. What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"
Celeste raised her eyebrows. "You wore that to school. Josh was at school. Do you see a problem here?" I grew silent. "How about this?" She removed a pink summer dress, which looked to be about two sizes too small.
"It might be a little short." I knew that I wasn't contributing to conversation as much as usual. My mood seemed to be all over the place because of Josh. I'd skipped fifth period to cry, and I wasn't about to let him hurt me again.
"Perfect." She shoved the dress in my direction, but I didn't take it. "Look, Peyton," philosophical therapist Celeste was back, "I know this isn't easy for you. Hell, you must feel like complete shit. Like that dog crap that you see on the street that has been lying there for days. It has flies and maggots rotting away-"
"Celeste!"
"But, think about this: it's summer and you're not tied down. You'll find another guy in a matter of seconds! I mean, just look at you." I gave her a smile and she squeezed my shoulder. "Boys suck. They can make you happy with one look and can cause your world to crumble with one word. Forget about Josh. Let's focus on us. On tonight."
"This is why you're my best friend." I leaned into her. "I love hearing about grotesque images of dog shit." We both died of laughter. After wiping tears from my eyes, I said: "So, how about that dress?"
She jumped up and removed the dress from its plastic hanger and offered it to me. I took it.
"Now change."
"Yes, ma'am."
I stripped out of my clothes. I used to be very self conscious about my muscular body. Most girls had these elegant physiques, thin thighs and flat stomachs. I wasn't built that way. My shoulders were broad and daunting, my stomach and thighs had shape to them. My thighs touched, and I didn't have a problem with it.
"Cute," Celeste commented on my matching bra and undies. She wiggled her way into a skin tight navy blue dress. Unlike me, Celeste was built like a ballerina. She couldn't gain weight, as hard as she tried. The results were a flat chest and bony legs.
The door busted opened and Celeste's brother, Nathan O'Connor, stood there. His mouth was gawked opened as he stared at my half-naked body. He reached up and slapped a hand over his blue eyes. "Sorry, I didn't realize you girls were getting ready to work the streets."
Nate leaned against the door frame, his blond hair standing up in awkward angles. He was a year younger than Celeste, and possessed many of her traits. They both had matching pale eyes, as well as dimples. Celeste's teeth were crooked, because of her refusal for braces, but Nate's were perfectly straight, his canines very prominent and sharp in contrast. They looked like they were related; when in reality they weren't. Nate was adopted when he was younger, from Ohio.
Celeste gave him the finger as I pulled my dress over my head. My parents and Celeste's parents went to a nursing class together when we were both born, and I've been a part of the O'Connor family for what seemed like my entire life. Celeste and Nate were like siblings to me.
"What do you want?" Celeste snapped in his direction. Nate popped a Skittle into his mouth and removed his hand from his eyes. Thick eyelashes surrounded them, which glittered evilly in the natural lighting of the room.
"Mom wants to know when you're leaving." He was answering Celeste, but his eyes continued to strain on me. "You look different," he said to me.
"Ten minutes," Celeste drew his attention away from me. Nate nodded, frowning slightly.
"I don't like it," he whispered to me and turned to close the door.
"Sorry," Celeste rolled her eyes. "You know, it's his time of the month again." She pulled her dress down, which barely covered her butt. "How do I look?"
"Like a baby prostitute."
"I prefer the term escort. Sounds more exotic." She wiggled her butt.
Grabbing my cell phone off of the bed, we made our way downstairs. Celeste's mother, Gale O'Connor, stood in the kitchen, chugging a bottle of vitamin water. She wore plain grey sweatpants and a large GAP shirt. She gave us a quick glance and threw the water bottle into the recycling bin.
"I'm going to finish working out," she said briskly. "Have fun." She kissed her fingers and threw them in our direction. Sometimes, I wondered about Gale. About the O'Connor parents in general. Celeste was dressing up in revealing clothes and was plastered in makeup, but they didn't even raise a brow. She seemed to lack the ability to care.
"Thanks, Mom." Celeste paused. "I'll call you when we're leaving. It might be late." Gale didn't answer. She plugged in her earphones and went to the basement.
Nate exited the kitchen, holding a peanut butter sandwich, with the crust cut off. "Be safe," he told us, climbing the stairs two at a time.
Celeste snorted and looped her arm through mine. "We will!" she called after her brother, closing the door behind us. We both shared a secret smile as we walked down the steps of her house, our feet moving in sync.
The evening air was crisp, offering a break from the heat that California usually presented us with.
A nervous feeling began to make its way up to my throat, grabbing hard and yanking at all my nerves.
"Relax," Celeste licked her red lips. "What can possibly go wrong?"
*
Graham pressed another beer into my hand and motioned for me to scoot over.
"Hot in here, isn't it?" he said as he sat down next to me. His thigh touched against mine. Graham played lacrosse with Josh, but was at least twice his size. He was a foot taller than I was, hovering over me. Muscles popped all over his body and I remembered Josh telling me once that Graham used muscle enhancers and worked out every single day. Now I just believed Josh to be jealous.
The smell of pine needles and musk entered my nostrils and I leaned into the arm of the couch to support myself, the smell overwhelming.
"Yeah," I said, taking a sip of my beer, which was warm. Sweat trickled down my neck, creating a pool of liquid between my breasts.
"Sorry to hear about you and Josh," he leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper, as if we were sharing a secret, "breakups are always hard. If you ever need someone to talk to, know that I'm right here." He put his hand on my knee and I jolted up in surprise. He removed his hand in one swift motion.
"You've had a lot to drink," I whispered.
"What's the point in drinking if you're not gonna drink?" he offered me a shot and I hesitated, staring at the clear liquid.
"Oh, what the hell." My throat burned as the liquid flowed into my mouth.
Graham's living room was connected to the deck, which contained a jacuzzi. Beer bottles littered the ground and the smell of marijuana was very present in the room. There was a total of ten people at Graham's house, the majority of them were girls. It wasn't shocking, knowing Graham.
"Who's ready to party?" someone shrieked, their voice shrill. Ariel and Ella entered the room, holding a black bag. They were both dressed in short shorts, their butts hanging out from the ripped ends, and matching black crop tops.
Ella looked uncomfortable in her outfit. Her stomach squeezed at the side of the shorts and her face looked bloated and red, like she'd been crying. Her sunglasses were still over her eyes, even though the sun faded a long while ago.
Ariel, her twin sister, looked more at ease. Though they were twins, they were fraternal. Ariel was much paler than Ella, and her physique was much more petite. Her brown hair was pinned to the side, revealing her elephant ears, which were covered in metal studs and rings.
"You guys seem rather close," Ella blurted out. Graham's hand gravitated back to my knee and I shifted into him, feeling the alcohol buzzing in my veins.
"Didn't you hear?" I shot out, "Josh and I are done. Finished. Terminated. Closed."
"Any salt around here?" Ariel pipped up, looking away from Graham and me. I tacitly thanked her for drawing the attention away from us.
I wasn't close to the twins. They went to school across town, and Graham met them while he was at a club. They always held their heads high, as if they were superior to us. They remained stuck in their glazed bubble, unmoving by our presence.
"Salt?" Ariel waved a hand in front of Graham.
He withdrew from his daydream. "Over there," he nodded his head to the corner of the room. "Grab some more shot glasses, too."
I found Josh, who was already flirting with another girl. She was thin and had dark hair, which cascaded down her back. He reached forward, grazed his hand over her shoulder, and said something that produced a laugh out of the girl's mouth.
I hated her. I hated her because she was beautiful. I hated her because she was talking to him. And I hated her because I wasn't her.
"What's her name?" I asked, jamming the beer bottle to my mouth and chugging it all.
"Nadia."
"That's an ugly name."
"Want something to drink?" he asked.
"It sounds like the name of a porn star." I put on a Russian accent, "'My name is Nadia, and I will suck your dick for ten cent.'"
Graham bent over, laughing. "I think you need another drink."
Josh said something that made her laugh even louder than the last time.
"He's not even that funny!" I yelled across the room. Eyes doubled over towards me and Josh turned his attention away from her, his eyes staring at me, embarrassed. I forced myself to look away, humiliation rushing to my face.
Graham returned and handed me a cup of clear liquid. "Straight alcohol. It'll make you feel better." I choked at the bitter taste, my eyes watering and stinging. "Whoa, slow down, Tiger."
Graham wrapped his arm around me and pressed his mouth close to my ear. "She's just a tease. Don't worry about her." His voice was comforting to a certain extent, but it felt weird to be close to anyone who wasn't Josh. "
"I'm not worrying," I defended myself.
"Well, you do seem jealous."
I whipped around to face him. "Jealous?"
"Yeah," Graham laughed. "Jealousy. You mimicked her, made fun of her name, pretended she was a Russian porn star -- awful accent by the way -- and you just yelled to them across the room." He paused. "So, yeah. You're pretty jealous."
Our faces were inches apart. "Why don't we open another bottle of vodka?" I didn't wait for a reply. Instead, I took a bottle from off the table and screwed off the cap. The bottle was cold between my fingers. I brought it to my lips, the glass smacking to my front teeth.
"Someone wants to party," someone whispered as I chugged a quarter of the 26 oz. bottle. Graham yanked it out of my hands.
"Are you crazy?" he asked me. "Do you want to get alcohol poisoning?"
My hands were numb and I shook my head, letting out a quiet laugh. My stomach burned. Alcohol poisoning didn't sound too bad right about now.
I stood up and my legs went weak. Graham caught me before I plummeted to the ground and aided me to stand upright. "You're insane," he whispered. "It's kind of sexy."
"You're sexy." I accidentally spit a little on his face. He frowned.
The bottle was passed around a couple more times until it finally reached my hands again. I gulped back three more mouthfuls. My tongue was so numb that I couldn't taste the alcohol anymore. Usually, I was the more conservative friend, who only drank a couple sips of beer.
After the bottle was taken from me, I plopped onto the couch, practically sitting in Graham's lap. My brain was wired, but my body felt drowsy. I closed my eyes and supported myself on Graham's shoulder, my hands cradled in his chest. He didn't recoil from my physical presence.
"Guess what, guys?" I babbled.
Everyone was feeling the buzz from the alcohol. Arielle and Ella were singing at the top of their lungs, Celeste was nestled in a corner with Will, kissing his neck, and the Russian porn star and my ex boyfriend were throwing a plastic cup back and forth.
"What?" Graham whispered, slurred.
"Let's play a game."